


Sad eyes

by LirTheGlassHorse



Category: Naruto
Genre: Drunk Blow Jobs, Fluffy Angst, Gay Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 20:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20120860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LirTheGlassHorse/pseuds/LirTheGlassHorse
Summary: This is what artists do. They pick up feelings and transform them into art pieces.





	Sad eyes

"I can sense your aura of sorrow from the other side of the room."

A voice. A glass hitting the wooden surface of the table. Obito lifted his gaze from his own drink. His blonde hair, his blue eyes, his red shirt, his purple drink. The pretty twink in front of him was too bright compared to him. 

"My mood hasn't been great recently, you're right."

"It's fine. That's what attracted me. I want a bit of it."

Obito gave a half hearted laugh and a feeble smile. He downed his drink. His consciousness floated in a soothing sea of liquor. Then he made eye contact with the stranger. Both stared at each other in silence, until the guy took a sip from his vodka-with-some-bright-colored-mixer.

"So, what's the reason you're sad, hm?"

"I feel lonely," he confessed, or alcohol did for him.

"I can keep you company tonight."

Obito was used by now to that kind of tactic, he attracted them like flies to honey. He took his wallet out. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to buy some fake affection.

"How much."

"I told you before, a bit of your sadness. Don't you think it's a good deal?"

"A deal I don't get, I'm afraid."

"You see, I'm an artist but I rarely feel down. I just wanna borrow some sadness and bring it to reality."

"Right."

It felt strangely flattering. They ordered more drinks.

"You're dressing too smart for a lonely guy, hm."

"I know."

The artist didn't ask him anything else, instead he talked about his projects. Obito listened with interest, at least one of the two had found his place in life. They talked about philosophy as their glasses emptied.

Obito wasn't sure who kissed who, but that didn't matter. It wasn't time to chat anymore.

"Hey, Sadboy, let's go to my place."

They stopped at every eerie street light, at every portal. They felt each other, with their lips, tongues, hands and bodies. Obito's world spun around him while he and the stranger rubbed against the other.

_Take my sadness, Artist. Take all of it and seal it in a canvas forever._

They entered a portal. The building had no lift so they took the stairs to the fourth floor. Half way through Obito tripped over, he was too drunk. And too desperate for one more kiss.

He discovered that steps were uncomfortable, or maybe that was just common sense. The artist moaned every time he bit his lip a bit too hard. He felt him undo his trousers, Obito helped him. The next thing he knew, his dick was in the guy's mouth. Cosy and wet and hot. His moan echoed through the stairwell. He looked at the guy, stroked his golden hair and moaned again, drowning in bliss.

Then the noise of the portal door opening startled them. They stood up and ran upstairs. The artist's house was small and full of half finished canvases. It smelled of paint and pot.

They kissed once more, all teeth hitting teeth and tongues licking tongues. And split lips. Clothes falling like leaves from a tree in autumn as they approached the couch. His bare skin was warm against his. A balsam to his soul. The artist picked up some lube and condoms from somewhere between the cushions.

"Fuck me, hm."

"It will be my pleasure."

"You're so polite."

A giggle transformed into a moan. His inner walls welcomed him tightening around his cock. Feeble moonlight seeped through the blinds and painted glowing stripes on his back as Obito's hip slammed on his, fast and ruthless. The old couch creaked and Deidara moaned, his back arched, his fingernails dug on his back.

_And his sadness... Where was his sadness?_

***

When Obito woke up, he was holding the artist in his arms. His head throbbed painfully with every single movement and he felt sick. He had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to sleep in couches.

"Sadboy."

A quiet mutter near his ear.

"Morning."

"You haven't paid me yet."

Obito spent a couple of minutes stroking his hair and back before answering.

"I'm afraid I've scammed you."

"So, your sadness is gone?"

Obito moved his hair to one side and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"It is."


End file.
